


the brightest shade of sun (i had ever seen)

by Tarredion



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: 2019 Era (Phandom), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feels, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pre-Coming Out Videos (Phandom), Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:20:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24131236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarredion/pseuds/Tarredion
Summary: one dawn on the isle of man can be enough to unite two craving hearts, even if a lot of heartbreaking thoughts are revealed along the way
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 16
Kudos: 54





	the brightest shade of sun (i had ever seen)

**Author's Note:**

> beware, this one is description heavy! If you want a more fast-paced piece to read, this fic is probably not the best choice (it's all one scene, nothing graphic or anything! though there is swearing).
> 
> title is from Like The Dawn by The Oh Hellos
> 
> see the moodboard here:
> 
> <https://tarredion.tumblr.com/post/617843092039630848/moodboard-for-my-fic-the-brightest-shade-of-sun-i>

Even if he weren’t half-blind, his eyes would have to adjust to the darkness swallowing them whole. It’s thick, and sooty, and no shapes can be distinguished through it. It’s like a mist on the isle of man, stretching out across the plains and the wide blue sea, rowdy waves cutting through it.

Now, as it just so happens, that’s where they are. Not out at sea of course, even Phil himself finds that presumption ludicrous, but they’re sprawled out together in a guest room in his family’s home.

Phil shudders in the darkness, the covers pulled away from him, hogged by Dan who lays somewhere on the other side of the king-sized bed.

If he could, he’d reach out and grab them, even if it’d be cruel. But the problem isn’t even how far away he lays, or if his energy levels are enough. Because, if he could, Phil’d reach out, pull Dan towards himself, and slot their bodies together.

He can’t, however. Can’t.

He just can’t can’t  _ can’t _ , and it’s eating away at his insides, the desire to do so.

No matter how much he loves Dan, if he’s never had the courage to tell him so, he doesn’t have a single right to cuddle him up. Not without explicit permission, not when he’s asleep. For now, he’ll just have to ignore the aching of his heart, and force his gaze away, keeping his wringing hands by his side.

All the thinking and overthinking makes Phil’s head hurt. The hangover lingering from last night has triggered a small, building headache beneath his temples, and the cold that continues to seep beneath his skin isn’t helping either.

Pulling his arms in close, legs and knees to his chest, Phil insulates himself with his pajamas. The minimal heat it provides is almost unnoticeable, but at the very least the pose means he can keep his limbs in check.

Yellowy light floods his vision. 

As he blinks his eyes open -what feels like- a few seconds later, he realizes he must’ve dozed off at some point, and then been woken back up. At the very least because of the unimaginable warm torso that’s pressed to his, and the arm loosely cradling him.

And, of course, the open mouth that has somehow ended up breathing onto his neck, chapped lips pressed to his prickling skin, sending shivers through his whole body.

Oh.

Oh no.

Realization washes upon Phil, fast. 

Oh  _ fuck _ .

Throat closing up, he swallows hard. 

Each inch of skin, from his scalp to his soles, begins to itch and sweat, signaling his flight or fight response. He forces his eyelids closed, letting himself succumb to the silence behind them, wishing for the world to disappear despite each part of him but the common sense screaming for him to fall into the embrace.

When that doesn’t work, obviously, he works on controlling his jugged breath, unable to help the warm and fast beating of the drum within his chest. He fails, miserably, and takes a final, shuddering inhale.

Simultaneously hoping it’s a dream, and not, Phil reopens his eyes to meet the light.

The itch crawls from his fingertips into the back of his head, overpowering the headache and hangover, and suddenly he can’t keep it at bay. His gaze flickers down, and the sight takes his breath away. 

A mess of hickory and chocolate curls greets him. They’re creeping up over his own chin, and tickling his nose, billowing across the lower parts of his cheekbones. The Dan that he knows, loves, even more beautiful than before, leans upon him for support. He’s fast asleep, still, quipping for air that then dances hot and warm across broad shoulders and freckled, milky skin.

Phil sucks in a deep, even steadier breath. 

And yet another, almost bringing him to tears. It’s a dangerous game, because for each second he feels himself fall more in love. Yet his shaking eyelids still fall closed, as he basks in the very much Dan-scented air. 

He- _ he smells like warm.  _

Warmth in a summer's breeze, warmth in the Florida sea, the heat and love he feels in his mother’s comforting hugs.

There is a certain comfort in it. One only Dan could bring, a combination of all good things at once.

It’s musky, and earthy, that particular smell, but with a tinge of heat typically found in a fireplace on a winter’s eve. The comfort of it draws Phil in, a tempting siren, and his arms involuntarily begin to embrace the perfect body already laid atop him. The skin where flesh on flesh meets prickles, and Dan nuzzles even further into the hug, his whole face smushed into the crook his neck.

Phil can still not believe his subconscious is letting him down like this. The swirl of emotions that builds within his head begins to press behind his eyes, and at that he actually does begin to cry.

The tears burn and sting as they flood Phil’s tired blue eyes, billowing down his cheeks, and watering Dan’s scalp. He wishes dearly his desperately silent, yet mostly heartwrenching sobs won’t wake his best friend, even while his heaving chest moves them both, for they’re not the only thing that’d be difficult to explain.

Tenderness oozes from each one of Dan’s drowsy movements. He grumbles quietly, and Phil’s whole body overflows with fear and similar emotions. 

As the weight upon his tingling chest shifts significantly, sighs and mumbles rolling across Dan’s tempting pink lips, all he can wish for is that he’s not waking up. Not yet, not like this.

But of course, hoping and wishing does nothing in the grand scheme of things. If it did, he’d not be in such a state. He’d be willingly cradling the love of his life in his arms, the dreadful organ named heart pounding beneath his ribs not from terror, but adoration.

Just as scary a scenario, but more favorable.

It’d have brought a smile to his trembling lips, that gorgeous sleepy smirk that Dan bears right now, dimple and teeth creeping out. Now, all he can do is swallow down the guilt and shame, and wash his excruciating feelings down with a feigning sigh.

The sunlight glimmers like honey within the brown orbs that peer upon him, sending sparks of electricity down his spine with just a single, simple look. Despite only minutes having passed, or maybe not even that, since he woke, eternity seems to drift away.

The rest of their lives flash through Phil’s mind, where they’ll be, and where they’ll not.

At the fleeting sight of a ginger, curlyhaired child running into his arms, the fingers holding onto Dan’s shoulder dig into the skin. He shouldn’t be imagining things, he knows, but Dan looking up at him like that, it makes him  _ feel _ . 

Sometimes he can even imagine the feeling is mutual.

Fluttering in the breeze, the blinds disrupt the rays of light, breaking the moment into a million pieces of shattered glass and heart. With his best effort, Phil pushes the longing to the back of his mind, forcing himself to gaze back down.

A shit-eating, oblivious grin stretches Dan’s mouth to the brim. 

Only now does Phil notice his mostly naked state, and he has to focus very hard on  _ not  _ that. On anything but the bare tan skin that clad his whole perfect being, and the pretty, billowing thighs almost pinning him to the bed.

“Hi.”

Like the dawn that broke the dark, the murky sounds of Dan’s morning voice creates ripples in the seams of the earth. The posh yet unorderly tones split the universe apart.

A pricking sunshine on a dampened autumn morning, it parts the clouds, setting the whole world he possesses alight. Phil would very much like to hear it each time he wakes up, but he knows he can’t. And that, most of all, tears him apart any time he’s privileged enough to.

There might’ve never been anyone else that Dan sought, at least not to his knowledge, but that doesn’t mean he’s entitled to such a reality.  _ Just friends _ ploughs through his mind, and he knows it’s true, no matter the hurt.

_ Just friends. _

Dan is still peering up at him, drowsily, and seemingly he does not possess the knowledge of Phil’s deep, internal wounds. The scars that have haunted him for nearly ten years, and the hurt he still feels each time his adoration for this gorgeous, amazing, charming man grows.

Phil can’t leave the silence so empty for so long. With each passing second he becomes more and more torn, and so he clears his lump-filled throat. “Good morning.”

Tingly giggles flow out from Dan’s mouth and over Phil’s chest. “Good morning yourself, you spoon,” Dan whispers contentedly, but his face immediately falls. He clambers upwards until they’re at eye-level, still straddling him, and gently clasps Phil’s whole face with his big hands. Phil could cry at even just that simple touch. “But it doesn’t sound like you think so, so choked up. Are you- is something amiss?”

Phil doesn’t have the heart to tell him the truth, despite priding himself on almost never lying, but he also never ever wants to hear the concerned, wobbling stutter that colours his voice.

“Nothing- nothing’s wrong,” he forces out, thin-lipped and heart pounding hard. “How about we just go downstairs? Mum might be making breakfast, now. She should be, at least. That’d be good, right? Fill us up.”

The sheets crumble where Phil nervously balls his fists, waiting for the worst, but neither of them make an effort to move. Especially not Dan, whose gaze flickers away. For a few moments, it’s silent, and Phil desperately hopes he’s not given himself away.

“Do you have a problem with cuddling me?”

The sincerity pains him, but he’s also taken aback. “W-what?”

“I- ‘cause if you do, I’m sorry,” Dan whispers, and his hands become slack. One wipes his wide, watering eyes, and the other pulls away like he’s been burnt, surprising Phil. “I should’ve asked, I really should have, but you just looked so soft, asleep, and I felt bad for taking the covers during the night and maybe you were cold and I thought I was warm enough to heat you and just-”

“Dan-”

“I just- I just wanted to cuddle you, that’s all. I’m sorry, Phil, I really am. I shouldn’t have stepped over the boundary like that.” The sincerity in his voice is a worse pain than almost any other he’s felt, a spear through his ribs.

Maybe, just maybe, keeping his own feelings secret is the worst idea he’s ever had. Maybe they’re treading on the same line, carrying the same fears and wants.

He hopes he’s right, and he also knows there’s no turning back as soon as his mouth falls open: “I’m in love with you.”

Dan blinks owlishly at him. Had Phil not been frozen on the spot, surprised by his own boldness, nor pinned down by Dan’s dead weight, out of the window would’ve looked like a very interesting place to go. Both for his eyes and his whole.

“I’ve been in love with you for as long as I’ve known you,” he continues, with nowhere else to go but in the murky direction of whatever the future holds. “And I don’t know how you feel, or have felt, but I just thought that if you didn’t feel the same, then you might blame the closeness on me. And that it could hurt our friendship as a whole, for maybe you weren’t comfortable with that being a part of it..”

The air leaves his lungs the second the words do, terror replaced by anticipation. He fears for what the expression on Dan’s face will shift to, his wide, alluring doe eyes watching him with as much shock and confusion as a human seems to be able to hold.

He needn’t worry.

Cheeks widening, Dan’s face glows, bright and tepid like the light bursting out and growing in Phil’s heart. His mouth moves like he wants to speak, but he’s unable to make any sound, interrupted by his own sleepy smile, now a full-blown grin.

“Oh. my. god.” Dan croaks, finally, muffled and soft as he puts his head in his hands. “Phil, we’re  _ complete _ idiots.”

Phil can’t help the ripple of laughter flowing across his lips. The happiness he feels cannot be contained, manifesting in any way it can. 

Still, if he’s able to avoid putting his own feelings into concise words a little longer, something he’s not so good at, obviously, he’ll sure tease Dan for his own dramatic reaction. 

“Why? Why are we idiots?” he laughs, despite being able to guess the truth by now, the hard-faced facade crumbling.

Dan’s hands move from his face, his flushed, squishy cheeks grazed by the sun. He cradles Phil’s face with them, palms wide, tilting his chin up with a shaky, careful finger, and his skin bursts aflame. “Because I’ve liked you even longer than that.”

“Liked?”

“ _ Loved. _ ”

The look Dan gives him is deep and unprecedented, and Phil quips a breath, his gaze drilling into him with such fascination and adoration he’s never felt before. 

“Loved,” he parrots, arms subconsciously enveloping Dan’s self-heating body. It doesn't matter anymore where they are, or who could see - the room is dull compared to the presence of Dan, his aura the golden polaris against the indigo evening sky, and he has nothing more to fear with him around. The secret is out. “Adored.”

Fingertips trace circles and patterns and shapes across his freckled skin, crawling beneath his loose t-shirt. His whole being ignites, the passion he feels for Dan rivaled by the other man’s like-minded emotions. 

Phil’s throat feels dry, while his tears stain his cheeks, and for a moment he simply wants to  _ exist _ . 

Simply be.

He tangles his hands in Dan’s curls. “I love you, so so much,” he sighs. This way, the love he feels overflows, dancing across his lips as simple words before they can even be finessed by his tongue. “Can I- may I kiss you?”

“ _ May _ you?”

“Well…”

A ravishing, renewing growl rises from the rumbling depths of Dan’s trachea, fists tightening around Phil’s shirt. His deep eyes meet his, and, suddenly, it’s as if the stars collide -

\- their bodies grind, fumble, mouths slotting together in flourishing heat while their hands roam. Dan tastes of homemade stew and crisp watermelon, Phil finds, and though it may simply be because that’s what he’s been fed by the Lesters, he gets lost in the way it swirls on his tongue.

Because it’s Dan. That’s the way he tastes right now, and then, and it’s worth taking in.

It’s a straight up sign of love.

When they break apart from the kiss, Phil’s sight is flashing, speckles of sunlight and delight mixing together in a flurry blur. Honestly, he can’t tell which are of his imagination and which are simply reflections from Dan’s honey irises.

His eyelashes, thick and fluttering, are clad with droplets. A smile, so wide and so nervewracking it hurts, twists his features into an image of grace.

Phil knows he’s matching him, the most beautiful person on earth, simply by the pain in the muscles of his cheeks. And no less could he care, for the sun shines upon them, and a future that not so long ago seemed shrouded in doubt and mystery. In pain and carelessness, now replaced by all the possibilities in the whole wide world. 

Seeming to sense these possibilities, too, Dan begins to laugh. Each bout echoes loud and clear, and if they’re not already awake, something in the back of Phil’s mind tells him that his whole family will be awoken by it. And he himself finds that, yes, he doesn’t give a damn.

Hips bumping together, Dan hoists himself up. His tangled hair hangs from his scalp, a waterfall of glittering, brown twists and curls caressing his tan, sparkling features. A rosy patch trails up his neck and has therefore embedded itself in the skin of his cheeks, colouring him the shade of the breaking dawn.

The sun, the moon, and any other celestial bodies out in the vast universe cannot compare to him.

_Thump._ _Thump._ Phil’s heart pounds. 

_ Thunk thunk, _ it rouses like a fire-breathing drake beneath his cage of ribs, waiting to get out. To escape.  _ Thunk. _

Long he gazes up at Dan’s face, enamoured and at peace.

After wetting his lips, he timidly speaks. “I wish.. I wish I could express to you how much you matter to me, and how much I have hoped for this.”

“You already have, Philly.”

He ignores the statement, though it warms him. “It’s just… It doesn’t feel like enough. For you, I mean. You deserve everything, Dan, I really think you do.” Dan only sheepishly smiles and leans up close again, booping his nose. “I can’t put my feelings into words, that’s all, no matter how wonderful I think my thoughts are.”

Softly shaking his head, Dan gives him yet another kiss. When he pulls away, he does so slowly and sensually, and he wears that same sheepish smile once more. Suddenly, Phil feels rather silly for worrying about it.

“Ha! Phil, you don’t have to justify it if you feel like you can’t,” Dan reassures. “I’ve known you for nine years, I already know it’s a part of you, I don’t want you to change how perfect you are, and that’s three reasons why I won’t judge you for it.”

A raised eyebrow urges him to continue. “The  _ final _ reason is.. because I love  _ you _ , you spork. You for you.”

He gives him another kiss, which he gladly accepts, and reciprocates. 

His mind feels less muddled, less confused, and less inadequate. He’d very much like to hold onto that as long as it lasts.

There’s a knock from outside, and Dan springs up, saliva dripping from his well-kissed lips. The realization hits Phil; they’re half-bare, or at least Dan is with just his boxers on, and any unsuspecting member of his family is standing right outside their unlocked door while they’re making out. 

Face heating up, he gives Dan a side-eyed glance, forcing any embarrassed giggles down.

Martyn’s good-natured, teasing voice exclaims: “If you two would stop canoodling for a second, mum’s set out two bowls of cereal for you in the kitchen!” and then he prances off, not waiting for a response.

Again, Dan begins to laugh. He laughs. and laughs. and laughs; the rumbling, explosive laughter taking all the air from his lungs, and thundering out into the open air.

He laughs for a good couple of minutes, clutching his cute chubby sides, head thrown back with a grin carved in marmor. Phil himself can’t believe the hilariousness of the situation, though he’s not having trouble controlling his own laughter. But he is certain Martyn had absolutely no idea how spot on he was.

“Are we canoodling now?” he asks with a small smile.

“ _ Canoodling _ ?”

Even if he’s heard that tone of voice from Dan a million times before, from gaming videos to casual banter, he can’t help his stomach twisting and turning and knotting itself. Even if it’s usually harmless, even funny and endearing, to hear him speak like that. 

He’s not necessarily worried about Dan changing his mind. About this, about _ them _ . He simply wants a straight answer so he can kiss and cuddle him some more, on their own terms, before the day calls. And so he can possible reintroduce Dan to his family, then.

And, well, he is still slightly  _ terrified  _ that this could just be a ruse.

“I mean..  _ are we _ ?” 

“You better fucking hope so, Lester-” Yet another sugary kiss… “-and I’ll also remind you not to worry.” He does, in that same breath.

“My biggest fear is not giving you enough… I want to appreciate you suitably.”

“You already have. Now, drop the formalities, darling.”

By now, the downstairs seems to be bustling with life. Clangs are consistently heard, followed by voices dear to their hearts. Time is running out; before long the whole family will come looking for them, and Phil doesn’t want any awkward happenings. That’d ruin the heartfelt moment.

“Does this mean we’re together now?” he asks, leaning up against the headboard to gain them some equal ground, with Dan sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed, skin displayed. He won’t point it out now, but it reminds him of their first night together during that fateful first visit back in 2009. Shorter, sweeter, and without a disappointed longing corroding his aching heart, obviously. “If, y’know, you’d like to be my boyfriend or- or something like that.”

“Boyfriend, partner, lover, best friend. I’d like to point out we’re already all of it, no matter the label we put on it. That’s a  _ yes _ , by the way.”

“Did you prepare this little speech all the way back when you watched the first of my videos?” Phil teases, and Dan blushes pomegranate red.

In a meek, fond voice he whispers softly, after spluttering. “Not quite… I did, though once I thought we had something going.”

The ache is painfully obvious in his shattered voice, but Phil gladly reminds him that the only way now is forwards. Together.

Rebuilding what they have lost over the years, and collecting all they’ve missed because of their consistent idiocy through the years. Together, redeeming two seemingly unrequited crushes for what they actually are, at face value, now revealed as; lovers.

Now, Phil is curious. “And what label would  _ you _ put on us, then?”

The smile that splits the seams of Dan’s gorgeous face glows like the sun, the brightest Phil has ever seen it. Orange, chamomile, and scorching hot. 

“Soulmates,” he responds. “And you?”

“Soulmates…” Phil tastes the word on his tongue, not even entertaining any other options. “Soulmates…”

It tastes of strawberries, caramel bubble tea in a Tokyo café, of world tours hand in hand, cheers from thousands of fans. Tones of October and autumn heat and anniversaries shine through, followed by thunderstorms, crashing waves, family holidays, and long plane rides.

He’s well reminded of late gaming nights, a lit fireplace in their apartment on a late winter's night, beneath a ridiculous pile of sweets he gets nagged for eating. Of stolen cereal and shared beds, of children’s names and videogames, and ridiculous songs sung at the top of their lungs. Of videos, dream houses, a fish, and a dog, and most importantly, a future together.

He decides he likes that, and all the undertones that gives it character.

Dan is still watching him with anticipation. His eyes are wide and his tongue grazes his lips, and hands wringe. In the background, fast footsteps move up the creaking stairs, but Phil doesn’t feel any pressure.

With confidence, he proposes; “Soulmates.”

“Soulmates?”

Once more, forevermore giving him that promise. “Soulmates.”

And he’s never seen Dan happier, never felt more elated himself. He’ll always be so confident, so sure, so unhesitant when it comes to them, to Dan, and to their family.

Neither of them has ever felt more in love than they do now, and that feeling?

It will never fade. 

**Author's Note:**

> reblog on tumblr here:
> 
> <https://tarredion.tumblr.com/post/617843210421714944/the-brightest-shade-of-sun-i-had-ever-seen>


End file.
